“What are we going to put in here first?” asked Ethel Brown, who liked to get at the practical side of matters at once.

“I’d like to have some violets,” said Ethel Blue.  “Could I have a corner for them?  I’ve had some plants promised me from the Glen Point greenhouse man.  Margaret is going to bring them over as soon as I’m ready for them.”

“I want to see if I can beat Dicky with early vegetables,” declared Roger.  “I’m going to start early parsley and cabbage and lettuce, cauliflower and egg plants, radishes and peas and corn in shallow boxes—­flats Grandfather says they’re called—­in my room and the kitchen where it’s warm and sunny, and when they’ve sprouted three leaves I’ll set them out here and plant some more in the flats.”

“Won’t transplanting them twice set them back?”

“If you take up enough earth around them they ought not to know that they’ve taken a journey.”

“I’ve done a lot of transplanting of wild plants from the woods,” said Stanley, “and I found that if I was careful to do that they didn’t even wilt.”

“Why can’t we start some of the flower seeds here and have early blossoms?”

“You can.  I don’t see why we can’t keep it going all the time and have a constant supply of flowers and vegetables earlier than we should if we trusted to Mother Nature to do the work unaided.”

“Then in the autumn we can stow away here some of the plants we want to save, geraniums and begonias, and plants that are pretty indoors, and take them into the house when the indoor ones become shabby.”

“Evidently right in the heart of summer is the only time this article won’t be in use,” decided Stanley, laughing at their eagerness.  “Have you got anything to cover it with when the spring sunshine grows too hot?”

“There is an old hemp rug and some straw matting in the attic—­won’t they do?”

“Perfectly.  Lay them over the glass so that the delicate little plants won’t get burned.  You can raise the sashes, too.”

“If we don’t forget to close them before the sun sets and the night chill comes on, I suppose,” smiled Ethel Blue.  “Mr. Emerson says that seeds under glass do better if they’re covered with newspaper until they start.”

It was about the middle of March when Mrs. Smith went in to call on her neighbors, the Miss Clarks, one evening.  They were at home and after a talk on the ever-absorbing theme of the war Mrs. Smith said,

“I really came in here on business.  I hope you’ve decided to sell me the meadow lot next to my knoll.  If you’ve made up your minds hadn’t I better tell my lawyer to make out the papers at once?”

“Sister and I made up our minds some time ago, dear Mrs. Smith, and we wrote to Brother William about it before he came to stay with us, and he was willing, and Stanley, here, who is the only other heir of the estate that we know about, has no objection.”

“That gives me the greatest pleasure.  I’ll tell my lawyer, then, to have the title looked up right away and make out the deed—­though I feel as if I should apologize for looking up the title of land that has been in your family as long as Mr. Emerson’s has been in his.”